


We are here just to get our scars

by Livinelf



Series: Digital star [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Backstory, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, cole still dies, happy with a sad ending, hence the M rating, no explicit sex, no graphic violence, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinelf/pseuds/Livinelf
Summary: Elijah starts his courtship with gifts. With fancy gadgets that don’t really mean anything to Hank, besides the fact that Elijah invented them. He sees the bright-eyed eagerness in the young man’s face, his desire to please, to surprise and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve such interest from this extraordinary person.





	We are here just to get our scars

**Author's Note:**

> This is for me and like two other people who ship them together :)  
> Plenty of fluff, but Cole still dies and this is pre-game, so no happy ending yet.
> 
> Not beta-read, all mistakes are mine :)

Hank is long used to new police officers fresh out of the academy, and they do not tend to attract his attention, quiet and obedient and unnoticeable more often than not. Gavin Reed, however, is different, and if he manages to stay in the department for long enough to not get fired, he will go far. The man is loud and passionate, the number of opinions he has rivaled only by his many temper issues, and Hank wants to take him under his wing from the moment of introduction - he always did like complicated cases.

At first Hank’s attempts to help Reed are met with annoyance and derision with no concern for ranks or age difference, but little by little the mask cracks and there is warmth underneath it. Warmth, softness and a lifetime of insecurities.

The probable reason for said insecurities becomes readily apparent when one night Reed gets drunk with some other stupid younglings, and Hank is the one who takes him to the unsteadily murmured address. 

The place is huge, and when he presses the button for the bell he fully expects to be ignored, but the door opens in under a minute and the man on the other side looks no older than Gavin. He also seems awfully familiar.

“Good evening?”

Hank rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to explain his presence without sounding like an idiot.

“Hi, uh, name’s Hank Anderson, I’m with the DPD and I’ve got a man in my car who might live here?” He throws a dubious look at the house and then at its owner. “Gavin Reed’s the name, ring any bells?”

“What has he done now?” The man sighs and leans on the door frame, not particularly surprised, just resigned, and where has Hank seen him before? 

“He went out with a couple of friends, a-” 

“Friends? Gavin has actual living breathing friends?” There’s a smile on that face now, ”Has my brother finally learned to play nice?” The man tilts his head a little to the side, and two thoughts strike Hank at the same time: Gavin Reed has a brother, and his brother is  _ Elijah fucking Kamski _ . What. The. Fuck.

“Uh...”He stands there, a little dumbfounded at the revelation, and no wonder Gavin avoids talking about his family - this shit here is a little overwhelming. Also, growing up with a person this smart must have been..complicated. Hank snaps out of his stupor, and _ Elijah Kamski _ is still looking at him, apparently waiting for his reply and what have they even been discussing? Right, Reed and friends. “No, he’s still..a little troublesome. Listen, can I bring him in? It’s late and I’ve got an early shift.”

“Oh, yes, of course, forgive my manners, ”The man straightens and opens the door a little wider, stepping aside in invitation. 

When Hank returns from the car and enters the house with Gavin in his arms, he points at a large armchair off to the side, his expression amused.

“Bridal carry over the threshold? Should I ask about your intentions?” 

Jesus Christ.

“Mr.Kamski, I-”

“Elijah.”

The hell. 

“ _ Elijah _ , I’d love to stay and chat,” that’s a lie, “but I really have to get going.” He spares a look at the figure still slumped in the giant seat. “Tell him I said hi.”

It takes him several steps to reach the exit, and just as he’s about to leave there’s a hand on his arm, attracting his attention.

“Hank...Henry, may I have your phone number so that I could call and inquire about my brother's well-being?  He's not very forthcoming with information, as you might imagine, and he doesn’t actually live here, so I worry.”

Hank has no intention of providing any sort of information on Gavin to anyone, but saying that might complicate his departure, so he takes out his notebook, jots down his number, rips out the page and hands it to the genius revolutionizing the modern world, and this is not the way he thought this day would go. At all.

\---

Elijah Kamski is a lying liar who lies. He does ask about Gavin exactly once, as an opener in his first phone call and that is it. All of his other questions are about Hank himself, or Henry, as he usually calls him, and that makes the total of one person ever who uses his full name in casual conversation. Mostly he just offers to meet, and after some thought Hank agrees, if only to tell him to fuck of face-to-face. It doesn’t quite happen that way.

Elijah starts his courtship with gifts. With fancy gadgets that don’t really mean anything to Hank, besides the fact that Elijah invented them. He sees the bright-eyed eagerness in the young man’s face, his desire to please, to surprise and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve such interest from this extraordinary person. 

The man is a walking contradiction. On one hand, he is famous. Very, very famous. Everyone in America knows his name by now - he has become a symbol of progress, of change. A National Treasure. But for all that fame and popularity he is incredibly private, and the only company he actually enjoys seems to be that of his creations. And now Hanks.

At first Hank doesn’t know how to reject these attempts at communication because he is 37 and Elijah only 20 and there can be nothing in common between the two of them. He worries about being the mature one, about being bored, but then he actually listens to Elijah talk, and while initially it seems like there aren’t many points of contact between their interests, actual conversations are...stimulating. 

They have similar tastes in music, only Hank’s knowledge is a little outdated, so Elijah insists that he listen to his best-loved modern bands and songs, some of which turn out to be surprisingly decent. He, in turn, introduces Elijah to the classics, to the must-knows of his generation, and to his favorite means of enjoying records – the phonograph. This is how several months after their initial acquaintance Elijah turns into an audiophile. Of course he does, the fancy genius. Hank wonders if he will single-handedly revive a dying industry.

It turns out both of them like reading, and as soon as Elijah learns that Hank prefers real books to digital ones, he starts giving him rare signed copies of Hank’s favorite works, which are simply impossible to refuse. Their preferred genres are, unsurprisingly, different - Hank has always had a weak spot for fantasy, while Elijah is much more interested in science-fiction (which makes sense, considering he’s the one responsible for the biggest breakthrough in robotics). And even though they don’t share each other’s enthusiasm for particular texts, their conversations about books are still engrossing, Elijah’s opinions both compelling and open-minded, and Hank finds himself simply listening, learning something new and enjoying it.

They go swimming, skiing, parasailing, try all kinds of new things together, some of which turn out enjoyable, some not so much, and little by little their relationship evolves - they find more common topics for discussion, they get private jokes, they laugh and neither hasn't been this open with anyone in ages. Soon they start visiting each other during off-work hours, and after a while Hank realizes he’s lonely in his own home when Elijah isn’t curled up on the sofa in his oversized hoodie.

It is somewhere around that time when Hank is forced to admit that friendship with Elijah is no longer the only thing he’s interested in. He feels weirdly protective of the other man, almost possessive, and when yet another magazine invents some sort of an affair Elijah might be a part of, he feels  _ jealous _ , even though he knows none of the article is true. 

And still his conscience stops him - he has no business wanting 20 year-olds. As time passes, however,  his resolve slowly starts to crumble. Elijah’s behavior becomes increasingly more suggestive, and when once Hank would have either ignored him or turned him down altogether, now he finds himself hesitating, considering,  _ imagining _ .

And the longer he knows Elijah the harder it is to understand why the inventor would bother with  _ him,  _ when he could have anyone in the world. 

\---

They are having coffee in one of the ridiculously large studies of Elijah’s equally large mansion, talking about the latest basketball game, which is nothing unusual for them, only today Hank can't concentrate. Elijah is fresh out of the shower, his long dark hair wet and curling at the ends, drops leaving trails on the thin silk of his red robe and Hank is mesmerized. He always knew that the young man was attractive, but right now the figure before him is ..beautiful, and that is not a word Hank has ever used to describe anyone before.

“You seem distracted,” there is amusement in his voice, which means he definitely noticed all the staring.

“You are distracting,” it is simple and honest, the first time he has openly acknowledged his desire, and Elijah’s eyes darken, smile turning devious.

“Is that so?” A careless (or more likely an entirely calculated) move reveals a glimpse of the white shoulder and a sharp collarbone, and Hank gives up, stretches an arm out in invitation, which Elijah is all too willing to accept.

The body that straddles his lap is warm and pliant, eager, and this is better that any fantasy he might have had because it is  _ real _ . His hand finds its way into the sea of wet strands, and he gives them a little tug, watches Elijah shiver and sigh and tilt his head, baring the neck, and he could do this  _ forever _ .

He reaches out with his other hand, thumbs at the full lower lip, caresses the long line of the throat, presses on the pulse point there, and stills, just for a couple of seconds simply to feel that proof of life in this unbelievable man.

“You are magnificent.”

“Is this really the best time for talking?” Elijah leans forward, bracing both arms on the back of the couch, his face now only inches away from Hank’s, impatient.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” Oh yes, they most definitely will. “There’s no hurry”

He wants to stay frozen here like this for all eternity, breathing the same air. Wants to go slow, to explore, to map out the man before him, then break him and put him back together. Wants to sing his need in gentle touches and soft sighs, but all of that can wait for a different time because Elijah is young and right now too slow might seem like torture.

A movement attracts his attention, a slight shift in position, and he glances down to see the red silk parted, knees bracketing him completely bare, and suddenly the contrast between his clothed form and the almost naked man in his lap seems obscene, somehow weirdly sensual, but at the same time Elijah has never looked this young, this innocent before.

Hank’s heart aches from all the warmth he feels, all the tenderness, so he pulls Elijah close and kisses him.

The kiss is soft, softer than he expected, given Elijah’s enthusiasm, their mouths barely open, and it is still the best one he’s ever had because it is born out of affection, not simply desire. The second one is braver, and something primal in Hank purrs in satisfaction because it becomes obvious that Elijah hasn’t done this before, that Hank is the first who is allowed so close, behind all the walls, all the barriers.

They end up in the bedroom, which is probably as grand as the rest of the house, but right now he doesn’t care, doesn’t even spare it a cursory glance because the only thing worth looking at is the man spread out on the bed beneath him, heart-stoppingly beautiful, all loose limbs and pale skin. Hank kisses his lips first, and it’s a leisurely kiss, long and slow and wet, then moves to the jaw, to the neck, Elijah’s breaths coming in short helpless gasps, his elegant hands seeking purchase on the sheets, and it is incredible – this unbelievable man so open, undone by simplest actions. It makes him feel powerful, because he is allowed to do it, allowed to  _ see _ . 

He drags his fingers down, all the way past the flat abdomen to the thin line of the waistband, and then repeats the path with his lips,  pressing reverent kisses into the soft tender skin, and Elijah shivers and moans, every touch new, unexpected.

Hank takes him apart with his hands, with his mouth, with his  _ words _ , whispered in quiet adoration, and the sounds Elijah makes in the end are better than any music, superior to any drug.  _ Extraordinary _ .

They drift off tangled together, relaxed, surrounded by warmth,  and he isn't sure he’s ever felt like this in his life.

\---

He wakes up comfortable and content, Elijah still asleep, his long dark hair spread out on the sheets between them, his face young and peaceful and  _ vulnerable _ , and Hank wants to give him the world. It is both wonderful and a little terrifying how much he came to care for this strange creature of the new digital age,  how much he’s ready to do to try and make him  _ happy _ .

He reaches forward and gently touches one pale cheek, a loving, helpless gesture he can’t control and Elijah inhales, waking, back arching in a luxurious morning stretch. His every move is mesmerizing, even the way he turns when he realizes he is being watched, like a sunflower to the sun. 

Maybe this morning dance should be awkward, like it had always been with others, but it isn’t, instead Hank feels peaceful all the way to his bones, he feels  _ right _ . 

“Hey” it is slow and lazy and he almost regrets breaking the silence, but then Elijah smiles and it is like no expression he has seen before, not on this face. It is a smile full of feeling, a smile instead of a confession, and he is lost in the face of such honesty from this man. 

“Why me?”  It works his way out without his consent and he’s terrified it will break the mood, but Elijah only hums and shifts closer. 

“Should I make a list?” he lifts a hand into the air above them and starts bending fingers along with his words, counting off imaginary points. “You are good looking and not entirely boring. You didn’t fall for my charms just because I’m rich and famous and while at first it was vaguely annoying, right now it only proves that your interest is genuine. You have good connections in the police department in case it ever becomes necessary.”

It is that last one that finally makes hank tense and pull away. 

“So you like me because I’m convenient?”

Elijah’s frown suggests that it is the single stupidest thing he has ever heard, and then he moves closer and pushes, until Hank relaxes back into the bed, Elijah leaning over him, and his next words are serious, with none of the lightness from before. 

“I like you because you are honest, because you are passionate about things you believe in, because you are  _ good _ . I like you because you fit me, because you make me smile, because I am always happy to hear your voice. You are the first person I think about in the morning and I feel restless whenever we’ve been apart for too long.” Hank is speechless, his heart in overdrive, but Elijah is not finished, his face focused and tender, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth “I want you in my house, I want you in my bed, I want you in my  _ life _ , and now that you’ve forced me to say all this sappy nonsense I’m going to show you just how much I meant all of that,” The kiss that follows is just a beginning. 

\---

In the end Elijah takes a picture ( _ of course _ he does) of the two of them lying side by side, disheveled and happy, and for the first time in many years, Hank is late for work. 

He doesn’t regret it for a second.

 

\---

 

“Say, Hank. You know that guy with the robots everyone is talking about?  Kamski or something?”

Hank chokes on his coffee and it takes him several seconds to be able to properly speak. He sure does know Kamski, and probably much closer than Jeff suggests.

“I’ve heard the name. Why?”

Jeff is already done with his lunch and now he’s simply relaxing in the uncomfortable chair, getting his daily dose of gossip before returning back to duty.

“They say he’s real reclusive. Prefers his creations to us normal humans.”

That is absolutely true, Elijah avoids dealing with people as much as possible - he doesn’t have any patience for their simplicity, only interested in fascinating reactions, not individuals themselves. Not caring about anyone...except for Hank, and that thought is still so new and unexpected that he hasn’t learned to trust it yet, and he can’t share any of this anyway so he simply shrugs. “You know, with how much shit I see going on every day in this precinct, I think he might have the right of it.”

“Good point.  Still, there’s no need to a be a dick to regular folk. I’ve heard he can make people cry in under five. Reminds me of our very own Mr. Bitchface.”

Of Reed?  He supposes he can see the resemblance, they are brothers after all, only where others would see them resembling in viciousness he sees a similar sort of softness, and he’s probably the first one to ever mention Gavin and softness in the same sentence.

“Under five? Reed might want a master class.” Hank drains his drink and throws the cup into the trash without getting up, still as precise as in his youth. Good times. “Come on, Jeff, we’re too old for this, leave the gossip to the babies.” He rises, grabs his jacket and heads for the exit, a spring in his step, Fowler mirroring his movements. “Let’s roll, those dealers aren’t gonna catch themselves.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice!”

It definitely would.

 

\---

 

They are  _ spectacular  _ together. The physical closeness doesn’t ruin their friendship,  only enhances it. They can be soft now, can express their affection in ways that weren’t possible before – in tender touches, warm embraces, gentle kisses that hold not fire, but something deeper, something  _ true _ , and sometimes Hank still can’t believe any of it is real.

It’s a quiet evening after a hard work day and they are sharing a brown leather couch, reading, Elijah’s feet propped up on Hank’s knees, his whole body lose, relaxed. Hank is trying to continue one of his old paperbacks that has really seen some better times, and Elijah is immersed in a glowing screen, and more and more often Hank finds himself studying the man instead of the book.

"Can I see your eyeglasses?” he’s wanted to do this for a while now.

Elijah’s expression is somewhere between surprised and amused when he looks up, but he removes the black frame and hands it over, curious.

Huh. “Huh.”

“Not what you were expecting?” `

Not really, no, and now Hank feels a little stupid.

“Several years ago I’ve watched those movies,” he stretches his arm to return the glasses, then settles deeper into the couch, a self-conscious smile on his face. “Lots of agents there. Smart guys, very techy. Their glasses were fancy... All kinds of enhancements and shit,” he rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed, “Figured yours will be similar, but what do I know. Whatever, forget it.”

“Henry Anderson, do you think this is the only pair I have?” Elijah rises and motions for him to follow. “Let’s go, I want to show you something you might find interesting.”

This is how he first visits Elijah’s workplace. The place is huge and takes up the entirety of the mansion’s basement, and it’s full of so much technology that Hank is scared to breathe lest something break. He isn’t sure what most of the things he sees are necessary for, but at least computer monitors appear familiar. And the chairs. And the tables.  There are several unfinished androids connected to some weird-looking machines, wires exposed, body parts missing, and Elijah is at home among all of this unsettling show, walking tall and proud - a God in his domain, capable and strong. And then he opens his mouth, and the illusion of confidence shatters, and Hank can suddenly see the boy underneath the man, with his desire to show off, to please this one stupid policeman.

“Do you like it?” 

Hank doesn’t think Elijah has ever asked this question before, just ignored both the hating and the adoring alike, sure if his superiority. Well, he is asking now. He’s asking  _ Hank _ .

Does he like it? He isn’t sure. He isn’t comfortable here - there’s too much light and space and electronics, it’s all a little too clinical to feel good, but he can see Elijah in every little detail, can see his passion, his drive and it’s impossible to ignore.

“Can I watch you work sometime?” It isn’t an answer, not quite, but it is close enough.

Elijah measures him with a considering look, and it is an interesting experience - not his usual readiness to agree to Hank’s every request. “ Only if you'll be quiet.” And it is not a joke, there is no laughter in his expression and this is a different Elijah, the one he hasn’t met before, a man of single-minded concentration and focus on his projects.

And then the moment passes as quickly as it came, and Elijah is already smiling, motioning for Hank to follow. “Come here,  you wanted to see my eyeglasses. “

 

\---

 

“My brother must be really fond of you.”

“Gavin? I doubt it.” Gavin Reed is an interesting creature, and sometimes Hank can’t help, but compare him to a cat - purring one moment then hissing and biting in the blink of an eye. It makes him want to pet the man or maybe throw him a jingly ball and watch the fireworks.

“He called me yesterday. Gave me the shovel talk.”

What? “Huh?”  Hank lifts his gaze to stare at the back of Elijah’s head, his hands stilling in the long strands he’s been trying to braid. 

“Complete with 'you hurt him I hurt you' line. It was hilarious. Very sweet too, I wasn’t sure he was capable of caring so much,” Elijah pauses then, and turns, a slow and careful full-body motion which ends up tugging his hair out of Hank’s light grip. “Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure  _ I  _ was capable of caring so much either.” He crawls closer, their positions now almost suggestive. “Apparently we are weak to your particular charms, Henry.” There’s laughter in his eyes, and his words throw Hank out of admiring his features.

“Jesus, Elijah! Please don’t ever mention Gavin and my charms in the same sentence,” he shrugs, an overly theatrical gesture, but still true, rubs his face and uses his free hand to try and push Elijah away. “Way to spoil the mood.”

Elijah chuckles, a low husky sound, and moves again.

“Don’t worry, Henry,” he catches the arm pushing at him and brings it closer, smile devious, kisses the palm, then every fingertip, and Hank’s heartbeat is already speeding up, “I know several ways to bring the mood back.”

He does.

And even though for the moment all thought of Gavin is forgotten, later Hank still remembers the discussion, and feels pleased warmth spreading through him at the idea that there is another friend who cares, even though said friend might never admit caring to his face.

 

\---

 

He doesn't even notice the moment he moves in,  just stays over one night, and then the next one, and the one after that, and by that point the thought of leaving doesn't cross his mind. Elijah doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t even mention it, and they still visit Hank's house together, usually on the weekends, mostly to relax and enjoy its familiar comfort. One of the times they invite Chloe along and she readily agrees, and it looks like she  _ wants  _ to go, instead of simply obeying the command. 

Chloe is incredible. She is soft, she is kind, she has a warm smile and Hank doesn’t understand this miracle Elijah has created. He has seen other androids, and while they did impress him with their human likeness, Chloe is different. It’s like she  _ is  _ alive, not merely pretending to be. A real thing, not a copy.

“Good morning, Hank.”

He is in Elijah’s spacious kitchen, staring at the refrigerator, which contains less food than even his own and that has to be some kind of record. Maybe it’s time to actually fill it up a little, now that Elijah doesn’t live alone anymore. That thought is still new, them living together. It fills Hank with pleasure, with happiness, and he probably has that besotted expression on his face again, the one that’s too open and easy to read.

“Would you like me to cook something?” The voice startles him, and he turns to find Chloe by his side, already handing him a cup of coffee. 

“Oh, morning, Chloe. Sorry, didn’t see you there. And uh...no food, thanks.” He shuts the fridge, then lifts his coffee in her direction and smiles.  “Breakfast of the champions, right?”

It doesn’t look like she agrees. “I could quote you the actual nutritional value and questionable benefits of your beverage, but I doubt that is something that will change your mind.”

“Damn straight.” Good girl. “So listen, you’ve been here for a while, right?”

“Yes Hank, I have moved into this house together with Elijah. Is there something you wish to know?”

Oh, there’s  _ a lot  _ he wishes to know, but right now his question concerns his most recent discovery.“Does he always eat this bad?  Or is there some secret stash I don’t know about? Another kitchen maybe?” 

Her face falls, and she seems genuinely upset and  _ how is this possible _ . “I’m afraid Elijah is not very good at looking after himself. Maybe that’s why he invented me in the first place.” Very likely. Well, that and the God complex. “He rarely lets me help him though. Often mutters about the nagging and the mother-henning. He is a complicated man, isn’t he,  our Elijah.”

The smile is back now, tender and sweet,  not just for Hank, but also for herself, and maybe it’s no wonder she is so real,  when Elijah treats her the way he would treat another human, has probably created her instead of one. Was it someone he lost? A mother,  a sister? Or maybe someone he never had, a wish-fulfillment? 

“He sure is,  Chloe.” He sighs takes a sip of his coffee,  which is done just the way he likes it. “Can you show me how to fix him a cup?”

“Of course,  Hank.”

Truth is, he still isn’t used to the androids. Still finds it strange to leave your chores for someone else to do without having to pay them. Elijah says it’s convenient, but Hank just thinks those are shortcuts, and he didn’t get to where he is in life by taking the easy way out.

And yes, Chloe is special, and that makes him even less willing to task her with things he is perfectly capable of doing. Like making Elijah’s coffee. 

For him cooking is a gesture of deepest care, a simple act to express his affection, even more important now, in a world where preparing food is a job for plastic hands. He likes (surprising Elijah with) making thoughtful dinners, teaches Chloe his favorite recipes for when he can’t, and tries to involve Elijah in occasional bouts of baking, which always end up with one of them against the counter.

He has never been happier.

 

\---

 

This was one long day. It is almost morning, and Hank is sitting in an armchair, staring off into surrounding darkness, exhausted and empty. In fact he is so distant that he doesn’t Even notice Elijah’s approach until their legs touch and suddenly there’s a shadow standing in front of him where there was only space before. He lets out and deep breath and leans forward, letting his forehead rest against the figure.

“Are you alright?” Elijah’s voice is full of concern, and in the next moment one cool hand settles on the back of his neck, the second one on his head, long fingers gently carding through his hair, and he feels himself starting to relax, if only a little.

“Can’t sleep.” He’s been trying for hours now.

“Is it work?”

“Isn’t it always?” he presses even closer, inhales the comfortable smell of Elijah’s clothes – a smell he has come to associate with home, and feels his body slowing down even more. 

It has been a hard case and a long investigation which ended at an abandoned apartment, which exploded just when Hank arrived at the address. The best he can figure is that someone triggered the bomb too early and he was meant to be caught in the blast, but wasn’t in the right place yet,  or maybe the bomb itself was faulty and went off prematurely, but whatever was wrong he escaped unscathed. Others didn’t. It was an old dilapidated house, but there were still people living there, those who couldn’t afford better, and some of them survived, some didn’t. He thinks there were children. 

Hank never really got over cases like these, where bystanders got injured, just put them somewhere to the back of his mind to be able to sleep better and hoped that one day they will be forgotten. He still remembers every single one. 

“Hank,” a quiet voice brings him out of his thoughts and then Elijah is moving back, crouching in front of him, framing his face with careful hands, “I’m here for you.”

Now that they are so close Hank can see the expression on his face - the warmth in his eyes, the curve of his soft smile, and suddenly it is imperative that Elijah knows just how important he is, how  _ vital _ .

“You do know that I love you, right?” It is an awkward confession, but he is an awkward man, unused to verbally expressing his emotions. It seems to be enough though, because Elijah leans in and kisses him once, tenderly and then starts talking, his words slow, measured, and Hank can understand that he means every single one.

“If you had been in that house, if you had been hurt, if you died... I would have found those responsible and I would have made them pay. Every. Last. One. I would have burned the world for you if necessary, because I do not care about the world, I do not care about all those people, they mean nothing to me, they are expendable,  _ insignificant _ .  _ You  _ are the only one who matters, and without you I can never be truly alive, simply existing.  And I can tell you that I love you, but that will be a lie, because there are no words to express how I feel about you, Henry. Do you believe me?”

“Yes”, he does and it should scare him,  the depth of feeling in this bright passionate man, but it doesn't. Instead, it comforts him,  assuages his fears of not being enough, of being  _ temporary _ , and he tries to bow his head to hide his expression, his awe, but Elijah doesn’t let him, just gently pulls him into another kiss. 

They fall asleep close to sunrise, wrapped in each other's embrace, and Hank doesn’t know how he can be deserving.

 

\---

  
  


Elijah knows he’s going to be voted out of his own company months before it actually happens - he is, after all, good at reading people. At first, Hank thinks it doesn’t bother him, but the closer it is to the board meeting the more restless the man becomes, barely eating, barely sleeping, and there is nothing Hank can do, but provide care and be there for the fallout.

When the day arrives, however, he can’t even stay at home – the arrest that has been scheduled is one of the biggest ones in this entire operation and can’t be postponed because one cop decided that the timing is inconvenient. He is motivated though, and thus very effective, so the plan goes without a hitch, and then he’s flying, almost breaking the speed limit, his attempts at calling unanswered.

When he gets home Elijah’s car is already in place, but the house is almost completely dark, faint glowing of the emergency lights visible through the tall windows, and Hank hurries straight to the place Elijah is most likely to be in – the lab. 

The first thing he notices is the chaos. For all the time he has known Elijah this has been the hidden heart of the mansion, sacrosanct. There is nothing sacred here anymore - overturned tables, torn wires, broken electronics, all the reasons for the blackout immediately obvious. It is a scene of desperation and rage, almost like a scene of murder, a human body with its entails scattered around. And the murderer himself is here too- a small figure huddled up in a corner, almost hidden by Chloe’s kneeling form, and she is touching him, petting his hair, holding his hand, saying something in that quiet soft voice she has just for him, and Hank is staring, mesmerized, at the creation comforting her God.

It is personal,  _ intimate.  _ He feels like an intruder and considers leaving, but then Elijah raises his head and looks right at him over the top of the android’s shoulder, facsimile of a smile stretching his lips, and there is no way Hank can leave now, not with Elijah like  _ this _ .

He takes several careful steps forward, broken glass crunching underfoot,  and Chloe straightens and turns, moving to the side, letting him through. 

“I will make you something to drink,” she gently touches his arm on the way out, a thank you and a good luck in one simple gesture, and he'll be eternally grateful that she was here when he couldn't be. 

It takes Hank no time at all to reach Elijah after that,  to crouch down to his level, to pull him into an embrace, and it’s little stiff at first, but after a few beats there is a quiet sigh and the body in his hold relaxes, tension draining away.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

There is a nod against his neck, a tiny barely there movement, and then Elijah starts shaking, the adrenaline of the day wearing off. 

Hank takes off his coat, careful not to move too much, and wraps it around the shivering man, not for warmth, but for comfort. 

“Are you alright?” He knows the answer to this question, but he needs to start somewhere.

“I have been doing this for as long as I can remember, and those simple-minded fools have-”

“You could have convinced him to keep you, I’m sure you could have,” Elijah’s way with words is unparalleled when the situation requires it, so Hank is sure Elijah could have forced all the board to resign instead. For some reason he did not.

“I thought...I thought I didn’t need Cyberlife, thought I could handle it,” he takes a deep unsteady breath and his next words are almost a whisper, “I thought I would be fine, but-”

“Hey, listen, we’ll figure it out.” Or he will die trying. There is no way he’s leaving Elijah alone with this.

“I am an engineer, I cannot stay here idle, without work, without purpose while my mind deteriorates.” It is equal parts desperate and angry, and might just be a beginning of a panic attack, so Hank grabs the first thought that comes to him.

“Wanna work for the police?” It is something he’s been considering for a while, and maybe it can distract Elijah enough to calm down.

“You flatter me, Henry,  but I’m afraid I’m no detective, private or otherwise,” the words are muted against his collarbone, the tone skeptical, but the more Hank thinks about the idea the more it makes sense, so he continues.

“Well,  that’s obvious. But now you have a lot of unused time and processing power, maybe if we provided you with requests you could accommodate them?  Jesus I’m starting to sound fancy around you.” 

Elijah has leaned back and is looking straight at him now, attentive, calculating, no longer trapped in his own head.

“So you...What, want me to supply the entire DPD with my inventions?” 

“If you wanted to. They can force those jerks at Cyberlife into letting you have their fabricating equipment, you know, spirit of cooperation and all that nonsense. And you’ve got all the computer stuff at home,  so…” he stops, suddenly conscious of the ruin behind them, of the fact that not everything will be salvageable, but Elijah is already smiling, not a bright smile, but a true one nonetheless.

“Thank you, Henry,” he touches Hank’s cheek and hisses, pulls away and stares at the red cut along the palm, from where he's probably grabbed a jagged edge.

Hank cradles the still-bleeding hand in his own and motions to the elevator doors. 

“Should we go up?  I need to take care of this, and Chloe might be worried,” she might be, but he's more interested in getting Elijah away from the mess and the memories. 

Elijah sighs and agrees. 

 

\---

 

When self-driving vehicles gain popularity and become commonplace, Hank still refuses to touch one, even when Elijah shows him latest models and explains all their benefits. After days of endless sighing and pouting, Hank relents and lets Elijah upgrade his old car instead, the one his father gave him for his birthday. The result surpasses his expectations, reignites his passion for long trips, and Hank thinks there’s nothing better Elijah could have given him. As it often is with Elijah, Hank is mistaken.

They are celebrating Elijah’s Birthday laying on Hank’s couch, their legs entwined, both of them relaxing for the first time in days, simply enjoying the sounds of Chloe busy in the kitchen and doing absolutely nothing, when Elijah lifts his head from where it was pillowed on Hank’s chest and stares in his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He can feel the young man’s racing heart through the soft cotton of his old T-shirt,  and whatever it is, it must be important. 

“I think we should adopt a child.“

The hand that’s been caressing Elijah’s hair stutters to a stop. A child?  The most he’s thought about was getting a dog, a big and fluffy one, was going to suggest it after closing the next case, but this… this is different. This is  _ more _ .

He has no idea where this thought came from. They haven’t ever discussed what they were to each other in all the years of living together, haven’t ever set the terms of their relationship. But this? This is a declaration of intent, this will make them  _ family.  _

Hank looks at Chloe, who’s quietly watching them, a soft smile on her face, looks at Elijah’s panicked expression, glances around the house at all their common things, at the evidence of their closeness, and realizes that they don’t need a child to be a family, because they already  _ are _ . But a child will add to their happiness, so he wraps his arms around the man by his side and agrees.

 

\---

 

Cole appears in their home on a cold April morning, and for the first month they think adoption might have been a mistake. At 1,5 years of age the boy is very active, very loud and very scared of men, so Chloe is the only one who can approach him with any degree of success. She feeds him, dresses him, plays with him and puts him to sleep, and it is a far cry from the idealistic picture they have been imagining, their son watching them from afar, never coming close.

They keep trying, but failures are tiring and disheartening, and just as they start to lose hope, Cole suddenly changes. It seems to happen overnight. They fall asleep on the couch, too tired to make it to the bed, and in the morning there is a pair of inquisitive eyes staring at them from the floor by their feet, and this is the closest the boy has ever been. He doesn’t look scared, doesn’t seem like he’s about to cry, and maybe this is what they have been waiting for.

Hank leans forward and reaches out, palm up, his movements slow, careful and Cole smiles and touches his hand, no trace of fear on his face.

“Hi,” it’s the first thing he’s said to them for the whole month.

Elijah is a warm weight by Hank’s side, constant and reassuring, there’s a tip of Chloe’s shoe just peeking from the slightly open door, and the boy is still sitting, still waiting, and the fragile hope in Hank’s heart spreads like wildfire.

 

\---

 

”So, a kid, huh?”

“What do you want, Reed?” he’s busy, but that has never deterred Gavin before, so he sees no point in trying now.

“You know, brown hair, blue eyes, goes by the name Cole?” Gavin smirks and leans his hip on the desk, full of himself, proud of his knowledge. Just as usual.

“What of him?” And how does he keep finding shit out? A little late, yes, but still, there is no way Elijah is his source of information.

“So you’re not denying it then?” He seems surprised by the easy acceptance, and did he really expect Hank to deny he something that can be confirmed by a single visit? 

“Would it do me any good?”

“Probably not,” Gavin points at himself with his thumbs, proud, as per-fucking-usual, “Detective, remember? The rising star of the pre-”

“Reed!” He gives up, closes the folder, and looks up at their resident drama queen. “Come on, get to your point, I don’t have all day.”

“Alright, alright, settle down, old man. I wanted to say you’re good for him.” 

“Cole?”

“No, idiot! Your partner, or whatever it is you to are calling each other.” They are still not mentioning Elijah’s name anywhere people can overhear, because the media storm if someone were to get wind of this would be terrible,and Hank would prefer it if they didn't discuss his personal life altogether, but that is not what’s important right now. What matters is that Gavin thinks Hank has been good for Elijah, and that is a surprise. He can definitely see how Elijah has been good for  _ him _ , but the other way around? Not really. So he uses the tried and true way of acquiring missing information - asking. 

“You sure?”

“Shouldn’t it be disgustingly obvious to you or some shit?” Reed isn’t even looking at him anymore, just staring somewherein the vicinity of his shoes. “Are you really gonna make me talk about it?”

Hank shrugs. “You are the one who started it, no?”

Gavin mouths something resembling a swear and then heaves an annoyed sigh.

“You’ve been together for what...Like, 10 years? Come on, you two have a kid together! The closest I’ve ever thought he’d get to a kid is dissecting it, and this isn’t even a joke.”

Sadly, it probably isn’t, and Hank isn't sure how to answer that information.

“It’s like beauty and the beast. Melted his heart and all that. Although you aren’t much of beauty, but there’s no accounting for taste,” he snickers, then straightens and comes closer, bumps Hank’s shoulder with his fist. “Relax, Hank. I’m happy for both of you.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just winks in that awkward way of his and hurries away, and Hank allows himself a smile, full of all the warmth he feels for that overgrown feline.

He’s glad to have Gavin Reed as a friend.

 

\---

 

“Papa, why is Chloe so different from other androids?“ Cole is 4 and has taken to calling Elijah papa now, and Hank loves how that fits the man,  loves the curve of his smile every time he hears the name, loves the way his eyes soften when they land on the boy. Loves  _ him _ .  _ Them _ . And he’d never thought he’d find himself here, in this house with this man and their child, but here he is and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“What do you mean?” he crouches down to the boy’s level, always giving him all of his attention, and the only ones to also get this treatment are Hank himself and countless androids, never people. Elijah is no longer interested in listening to people, only in playing them.

“Well, she is very... Lively? She talks to us, she laughs at my jokes, plays with me…I've seen other androids on the streets and they were all “I am a robot. How can I help you. “ he does his best imitation of a robotic voice and shrieks when Elijah lifts him up. 

“That’s because Chloe is special. I’ve made her to be that way.”

“Whoa, you made Chloe?!” Cole’s face lights up and he throws his arms around Elijah’s neck, pulling the long hair in his excitement. “Can you make others like her then?  It would be so much fun! ”

“Well,” Elijah turns to Hank, his expression unsure, “I suppose I could try, but I doubt people will like that very much?”

Hank knows he's right. People like androids because they are convenient tools to do chores, not for talking or laughing together, and introducing emotions to a subservient machine might bring about a revolution, but Cole is a child and it is not a matter he will easily understand. 

“Oh, they’d love it! Just like we love Chloe! Come on, do it!” he stretches the words of his last request, his begging mode on, an Elijah relents, just like he always does, at least for the moment.

“Alright, little one,” he presses the kid closer, kisses his temple and lets him down. “I promise that as soon as I’m ready I’ll try.”

“Yes!” Cole pumps the air with his fist. “I’m gonna go tell Chloe the good news!” He skips away and neither man has the heart to mention that Elijah might not be ready for years.

 

\---

It is a bright September day, unusually warm for this time of year, and they are on a bench by the lake, enjoying the sun and each other’s company. Elijah is laying down, his head pillowed on Hank’s lap, eyes closed, long hair loose in flowing waves, Chloe and Cole are happily chasing each other nearby, filling the air with squealing and laughter, and the moment seems nearly perfect, so Hank roots around in his pocket and pulls out his old badge. He has wanted to do this for a long time, and now that the time seems right he doesn’t hesitate, just looks down at Elijah’s peaceful face and starts talking. 

“So listen...I’d like to tell you a story. Long ago when I’ve just started working at the department as a beat cop, I went on my everyday patrol and got into a car chase. It wasn’t very long or very intense, nothing like you see in the movies, but it could have been very deadly, because the man driving it? He decided he didn’t want to get caught, so he shot at me. The bullet went through the windshield and hit me in the chest...straight in the badge.”

He lifts the badge so that it would be easier for Elijah to see and rubs the silvery indentation over one of the stags – the place of impact. Elijah is listening - serious, attentive, just as he always is when Hank is telling him something, even after so many years together and it is still just as incredible. 

“This badge saved my life that day and got me to you. But you...”

He takes one of Elijah’s hands and places the badge into it, closes long fingers around it, holding it in place, and Elijah moves, liquid and graceful, rearranges himself so he’s sitting back on his heels on the bench facing Hank. It looks like he’s about to start talking, which is too soon because Hank is not yet done. 

“Wait,“ he tucks a few of the dark strands behind Elijah’s ear and caresses his cheek, unsure how else to express all the tenderness drowning him, “There’s more I need to say.”

“You took a man who has given up on himself, whose only interest was his career, you got past his barriers and made him want to  _ live _ , not merely exist _. You _ are the reason why I am happy, why I wake up every morning,  you are the best thing to ever happen to me. The badge saved my body, but you saved my heart, and I want you to have it as a reminder of your importance.” He pauses, takes a breath. “ I love you and I want you to marry me.”

Elijah jolts from the place by his side, eyes wide, a smile spreading on his face, and straddles Hank, radiant, excited.

“Henry, are you serious?”

“Of course I am.” He noses at Elijah’s cheek and leans back to look into his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“It is your birthday after all, and here you are, making me the happiest man in the world.”

“There’s no present I’d rather have than you marrying me. ” It is sweet, maybe overly so, but it is the absolute truth, a truth that he knows down to his very bones, that he feels with his very being, and he hopes to never forget the expression on Elijah’s face, because he is  _ glowing.  _ “That a yes?”

“Of course it is.” Elijah kisses him then,  a little tender kiss, soft and warm. “Do you actually think I can say no?”

“How should I know? You are the enigmatic genius in this relationship.”

Elijah kisses him again.

 

\---

 

They are returning from a shopping trip, planning to surprise Elijah with a special dinner, and Cole is excited, bouncing on the seat, full of energy and life, and that’s when Hank sees it. The truck in front of them losing control, swerving, sliding, and he tries to brake, tries to evade the collision, but it  _ doesn’t work _ and the next thing he knows is a loud scream, and then the world starts spinning. When the movement stops, he reorients himself and turns, and everything else happens in a daze, in patches of moments, forever imprinted into his memory, in pieces of nightmares. 

Cole’s pale face, his big scared eyes, his red blood seeping through the bright orange dog power T-shirt. 

The roar of the car, the yellow of the streetlamps.

He remembers running, a piece of his heart clutched to his chest. Remembers talking, a stream of reassurances falling from his lips, almost nonsense meant to comfort, to calm down. Remembers Angela the receptionist, the brown hair of the surgeon, the LED on his temple.

The little hand on the white sheets.

Their son’s last words. 

“Call papa.”

He sits in the bright hall, red on his hands, red on his clothes, red behind closed eyelids, and his phone has been ringing nonstop since the accident, but he knows who it is. And he doesn't know what to say. 

His drive home is quiet,  no music, no laughter, only blood stains on the backseat, a painful reminder that things will never be the same, and Hank is...lost. His life now has one less constant and he feels untethered, unmoored. He feels guilty. He feels  _ responsible _ . And his broken mind finds the only thing he can blame besides himself and anger surges up and blinds him.

When walks in Elijah is already waiting, pale and terrified, hands restlessly twisting the hem of the stretched t-shirt. He looks so young, so innocent and that gives Hank pause, but then a soft “What happened?” brings everything crashing down again.

“What happened?” he slams the door so hard that the glass rattles. “You probably know everything that has happened, we’re all walking around carrying your fancy tech, aren’t we? Your watch, your phone...” Hank rips off the watch and throws it on the floor, the phone follows and  _ it had their pictures,  _ but it’s too late now and he drags his hand through his hair and continues, vicious, accusing,  _ “ _ Your fucking androids are on every corner with their cameras so you tell me what happened, you probably had a better view. What good are your precious inventions when they killed our son, huh? Why did you even make them?” 

He knows it doesn’t work this way, knows that what he’s saying isn’t true, but it’s too late, and Hank paces the foyer like a caged animal, uncontrolled, Elijah’s wide shocked eyes following his every move.

“Are you alright?” It is a careful whisper, an echo of their earlier discussions, a peace offering even though Elijah didn’t do anything wrong, and Hank explodes once more.

“Am I alright? Are you fucking kidding me? How can I be alright? What do you even understand, spending time with your plastics, with your...imitations? What do you feel? What do you care?”

Hank knows he is going too far, hates himself for talking, but the words leave his mouth without conscious command, a defensive reaction against an imagined attack. Elijah seems to be stunned into silence, horror and heartbreak on his face, and Hank understands that he has to stop or there might not be a way back, might not be a family to save anymore, so he does the only thing his body allows him to do. He turns around and leaves. And he wants to come back the next day to explain, to beg until Elijah listens, wants to cry together, to  _ grieve  _ together, but then shame, sorrow and alcohol drown him, and he never returns.

 

\--

 

_ In just several hours his life has turned from a dream into a nightmare. Elijah cuts his hair, closes his heart and locks himself up for all the world to miss. The world can go to hell for all he cares. He has his Chloe, people have their toys, and no one needs to know how broken their man of the century really is. He still does have a promise to keep though, so he goes downstairs and sets to work.  He’s ready now. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> There will most likely be a second part and it will definitely have a happy (well, happy-ish) ending.


End file.
